Life Must Go On, Though Good Men

And Must I Then, Indeed, Pain, Live With You All Through My Life?-sharing My Fire, My Bed, Sharing-oh, Worst Of All Things!-the Same Head?- And, When I Feed Myself, Feeding You Too?

Progress-progress Is The Dirtiest Word In The Language-who Ever Told Us- And Made Us Believe It-that To Take A Step Forward Was Necessarily, Was Always A Good Idea?

I, Being Born A Woman And Distressed By All The Needs And Notions Of My Kind.

Need We Say It Was Not Love, Now That Love Is Perished?

A Ghost In Marble Of A Girl You Knew Who Would Have Loved You In A Day Or Two.